


The Family You Choose

by Medeafic



Series: Circus [8]
Category: Glee RPF, Star Trek RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Circus, Circus, Cutting, F/F, Knifeplay, M/M, Phobias, Psychological Trauma, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 03:58:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3194465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medeafic/pseuds/Medeafic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lea's future with Greenwood's seems uncertain - and so does Dianna's. The troupe finds a way to break the tension. Di gets a thank you, and Zach finds something he's been looking for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Family You Choose

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Faberryspork (jaymamazing)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaymamazing/gifts), [pippin004](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pippin004/gifts).



> It only took me three years to finish...!! Thank you so much to Brilliant Beta [Emmessan](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmessann/pseuds/Emmessann), who's writing a fabulous series on beta work that can be [read here on AO3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmessann/pseuds/Developmental_Beta). 
> 
> Shout outs to [Lunafaye](http://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaFaye) and [Motylik](http://archiveofourown.org/users/motylik86), for their consistent support and encouragement. This would not have been completed without you both.
> 
> (Apologies that this has been a series rather than a chaptered work. When I started posting it I wasn't quite sure what I was doing on AO3.)
> 
> 8tracks mix with the songs I listened to while writing it: [Death-Defying Acts](http://8tracks.com/medea_/death-defying-acts).
> 
> _________________________________________________________________
> 
> Warnings: knifeplay (fluffy knifeplay) / cutting in a sexual context, and a corresponding small amount of blood.  
> _________________________________________________________________

Things are not running as planned.

John is wrapping Dianna’s thigh with a thick, stretchy bandage, winding it around enough times to make her feel like she’s had a sword slash through tendons and vital arteries.  The adrenaline in her system is making her fingers shake, so she presses her palms down on the bench and concentrates on the stretch in her arms. It helps, but only in a small way.

Things started out so _well_. 

Every performance tonight went off without a hitch, and the fly trap act was the high point, just as she planned.  The clowns afterwards helped take the edge off the audience high, so that when they came back after the half-time interlude, the crowd were buzzing but not rowdy. 

Chris and Zach disappeared so quickly afterwards that Di didn’t even have a chance to tell them how spectacular their performance was. Lea had been proud of them, too, watching Zach with awe.  “He’s so _good_ ,” she’d murmured, when they took a moment to peek from backstage, make-up half completed. In the light, she seemed to be disembodied eyes framed by a thick black fringe.  “I’m so happy for him.  For both of them.”  She turned to Di with a raised eyebrow.  “They’ve set the bar pretty high.  Think we can raise it?”

Dianna had forgotten about that competitive drive during performances, the push to be the best, to be the act that the crowd remembered, the act they talked about on their way home.  “Oh, yes,” she said. “Yes.”

“Starfish?” Lea suggested.  They’d been practicing a new pose for the Veiled Wheel, because Dianna standing in a straight line was becoming too easy, too familiar to both of them. They wanted to reach for more. The last few days they’d tried it with her arms and legs extended, a little more each time.  It was working, although once Lea had come very close to nicking Di’s upper arm.

Technically, they were supposed to run any changes past Bruce once routines were set in stone. In theory it was a safety issue, so he would know immediately if anything was going wrong during the live performance, but in practice troupe members made minor changes all the time without clearing them.  Although, Di realized, the last person to make a change had been Anton with his Cossack drag, and that hadn’t ended well.

“Maybe,” she said to Lea, and then Chris went for his dismount. 

Four. _Four_ saltos? Di had seen him do it in practice, but he’d never tried to pull it off live onstage before.  

“Yeah,” she said, ambition burning through her limbs.  “Starfish.”

Their act had run so perfectly, right up until the end.

In the centre of the stage a luminous block reflected creamy white under the stage lights. Out of it, Dianna rose like Venus from the waves, still and pale as the stone itself.  Only her top half was visible, a white silky toga falling from her shoulders and stopping where she was still encased from the waist down.

She stood motionless, her skin covered in white make-up marbled with ashen streaks like the block beneath her.  Over her face she wore a golden mask, shining in the light.  Anton’s crafty fingers could make even plastic and spray paint look like a heavy gold mask under the house lights, and it gave Dianna the blank features of an ancient goddess.

The act was Zach’s idea, finessed by Chris, critiqued to satisfaction by Lea, and wrapped up by Dianna: a marble goddess and her carver. Pygmalion with an all-female cast, and the power balance tipped towards the statue instead of the creator. Originally, when Zach suggested the creation of a marble statue, Lea disagreed.

“Not that, not just some statue.  It has to be more special than that. Di used to be a _goddess_ on the fly trap.  And she still is, as far as I’m concerned.”  Lea crossed her arms as she said it.  Chris laughed, and slung an arm around her shoulder, pulling her in tight. 

“Okay, then,” he said. “A goddess freed from her marble prison by a beautiful sculptress?”

“Freed,” Di repeated.  The word tripped over her tongue, not quite right. “What if she’s freeing herself instead?”

But at first, the goddess acquiesced to the will of the artisan. Lea ran into the ring in a frenzy of inspiration, dressed in colorful but fraying rags. She seized up tool after tool: a small hammer, a chisel, a file, until at last she saw the perfect implement. With reverence, she picked up a black rose knife, held it high and watched it absorb light into the gunmetal gray of the blade. 

The audience were as still as Dianna and as watchful.  Lea took step after graceful step until she arrived at her half-cut statue, and then stared at it critically, arms crossed in a gesture so Lea that Di smiled under her mask.

“Lea’s incredible,” Chris had told her after the first dress rehearsal when they were walking back from the Big Top.  “It’s so clear, the story—an artist who demands the best from herself all the time, and it’s killing her.  But she’s still _funny_ , somehow.”

 _I know_ , she wanted to tell him.  _I’m right there opposite her. I’ve known what she had in her all along_. But all she said was, “Yep. Lea’s incredible,” and bumped her shoulder into his.

Zach’s initial notes on their performance had been, “Keep it more comic than creepy, or you’ll depress the crowd.” If there’s one thing they don’t want, it’s to subdue the audience.

As they began the act in earnest, Lea bent in to carve at her creation – a little here – a little there – a little more – but with a resounding crash supplied by the band, half the marble crumbled away, and Lea was left staring at her mistake. After several beats, she threw up her hands in defeat and slumped to the ground.  There were giggles from the audience. Di began to relax then; they’d struck the right tone for the act.

The lights dimmed and narrowed to a thin strip of color-sapping white, shining on Di alone, making her body paint and mask glow.  The spotlight picked her out like a touch from the divine, the statue began to breathe. Began to move.  Began to live. Dianna let the audience watch in silence for a moment as she stretched and became aware, and then played it for laughs. She was confused, puzzled – where were her legs?  Why couldn’t she move? _Oh_ —she was trapped!

The crowd was chuckling, but the artist still hadn’t noticed her creation coming to life. Miserable, Lea picked herself up off the ground and grabbed a broom.  With her head hanging low, she didn’t see her statue’s tentative finger-raise, although it sent the audience into a gale of laughter.  In fact, it was only after Di tapped Lea on her shoulder, making her leap back in fright, that the sculptress realized what had happened.

 _Let me out!_ Di’s gestures said. 

Lea’s vigorously shaking head replied _No way!_ She was frightened and bewildered.

Di, exasperated, planted her hands on her hips.  _No, seriously, let me out._

 _But I messed up.  I might hurt you if I try again._ Lea pointed shamefully to the broken rubble on the ground.

Di made a _gimme_ motion with her hand.  _I’ll let myself out._  

Still bewildered, Lea stepped forward and placed the knife in Dianna’s outstretched hand. With a few well-placed blows from the blade, Di freed herself from the block.  She stepped down off the pedestal, and fluffed out her short toga.

She brought her heels together, stood as straight as she could, and stuck out a hand. When Lea hesitantly took it, Di shook it up and down in an exaggerated greeting. 

The crowd cheered when Di insisted Lea take up her knife again.  She had to push past Lea’s misgivings, make her understand that overcoming her fear was the only way to grow.  Both of them could feel the energy of the audience urging Lea to take the knife, to take it as the gift offered to her by her own handiwork.

Finally, the Goddess persuaded her artist to take everything one step further, and hopped up on the Wheel to be strapped in.  The crowd noise swelled. This was the business end of the act, the thing the people had come to see.  They hushed as soon as Lea commanded them with an ostentatious finger-to-lips gesture.

They’d agreed to start easy but escalate quickly, so for this round Di simply stood on the stationary Wheel. One through ten, Lea threw her knives with precision, and the _Ta-Da!_ of the band encouraged applause.

 _Easy_ , Di thought.

Next, they drew down the paper Veil, but kept the Wheel still.  One through ten.

The audience were crazy with excitement when Lea tore the paper down and revealed an unharmed Di. They ran through the schedule: spinning, no Veil.  Starfish spinning, no veil. Veil, spinning—that one drew gasps, as usual.

_Easy. Easy. All easy._

But to finish, they’d do something they’d only done in practice so far: spinning the Wheel, with the Veil, and Di in her starfish pose.  Why stick with something safe when they could _really_ wow the crowd? Danger was the reason their fans were there; danger was what Di had pushed at the fundraiser, in the promotions. Danger was what Di used to _live_ for.

 _Danger_ , Di thinks. _Talk about hubris_.  Now here she is with a sliced thigh, a bloodied handtowel and a thunderous-looking Bruce bearing down on her.  At least she managed to keep it together for the audience, despite the shock.  It hadn’t even _hurt_ , really, and the cut wasn’t deep. But it was close to the top of her inner thigh—too close for comfort.  She’s starting to wonder exactly where her femoral artery is in relation to the cut.

Bruce’s voice cuts through the air as effectively as one of Lea’s knives. “ _No one_ in this circus listens to a damn word I say.”  The crowd around Dianna scatters.

“So I’ll leave you to it,” John chirps, and melts away before Di can grab him.

“I’m fine,” she says to Bruce.  “Just a tiny scrape. No big deal.  John went overboard with the first aid.”

Bruce has a crease in his brow and tension in his shoulders.  He says, “What in the hell did you two think you were doing?” The area clears within moments, artists and ops crew remembering vital responsibilities elsewhere.

“It was a mistake,” she says, trying to sound calm.  “I’m sorry.  We should have…we shouldn’t have…”  She is _not_ going to cry.  She rubs at her forehead to hide her eyes, pull herself together.  “We made a mistake,” she says.  He throat is tight, but her voice clear.  “Mistakes happen.  We’re human, Bruce, despite what we like to think.”  She places her hands on her knees and gives him her best flinty stare.

He crouches, puts his hands over hers.  “I know you’re human, Dianna.  That’s why I’m terrified.”

“Oh.”

He stands again, rubbing a hand across his mouth.  “I’m sorry.  I’m trying not to patronize you.”

“No,” Di says. “I get it.  I do.  It’s not patronizing.” Bruce holds out his hand to help her up.  Di takes a few careful steps, and then turns back with a shrug. “I really am fine.”

“Alright, then.”

“I have to go. I have to find Lea.”

“I know,” he says, and says nothing more about Lea although Dianna can see he wants to.   “We can discuss everything else later.”

Di puts aside the sinking feeling, pulls on a short robe, and sets out to find Lea.

 

***

 

The audience is emerging from the Big Top now, people milling around as they always do, stopping for last-minute souvenirs and to take photographs.  John and his clowns enjoy going out into the crowds and interacting with them, giving the kids one last bright memory.  Di used to do the same, dragging Chris behind her.

Tonight, she goes straight to her trailer and pulls on sweats, then heads back out to find Lea.  She checks her cell. There are no messages from Chris, but Di’s pretty sure he didn’t take his phone with him.  Fly trap costumes don’t allow for pockets.

The first thing Di does is head for Lea’s trailer.  Her car is still there.  The trailer light is on, and the door is open.  Di jumps up the steps, so many reassuring words on her tongue that all she can say at first is,  “ _Here_ you are!”

But Lea doesn’t even look at her.  Chris and Zach are standing by, watching her, and Chris gives Di a helpless look.

Lea is methodically packing up her clothes and placing them into suitcases.  She only has two, and she seems to be having trouble fitting her costumes in alongside her everyday clothes.  She squashes down on a tulle skirt that refuses to stay flat.

“Lea.”  Di moves forward and places a hand on her arm, but Lea ignores her.  “Lea,” Di tries again, but Lea turns back to her drawer and grabs a handful of underwear.  She shoves them haphazardly into the suitcase. 

Dianna looks to Chris and Zach.  Zach is holding up a sheaf of papers, his eyebrow raised with significance.  She recognizes it as the contract from Murphy’s.  For a moment Di feels as though she’s not quite in her body.  Her lips are numb and rubbery and can’t form words.

Zach speaks for her.  “Dianna is fine.  You can see that.  She’s right here.”

Lea finally looks at her then, and Di smiles, reaches out slowly like she’s trying to touch a scared rabbit.  “I’m fine.  Really.  It was a very small cut.”

At the final word, Lea’s eyes dart down to the wide bandage around Dianna’s thigh.  Di lets her hand descend slowly onto Lea’s shoulder, gives a light squeeze like she’s trying to anchor Lea back in the physical world. “It looks much worse than it is. John just about mummified me, but it’s just one shallow cut.  That’s all.  And the audience didn’t even notice.” 

Lea herself hadn’t noticed until they got back stage, and Di clutched at her leg, but Di doesn’t mention that now.  It might seem accusatory.  Under her fingers, Lea is shaking, and getting worse as the seconds go by.

“It’s alright,” Di repeats.

“It’s not alright,” Lea whispers back.  “I _cut_ you.”

The shaking has increased so much that it becomes obvious to Chris and Zach.  “Let’s make some chamomile tea,” Chris suggests.  “We can all have some, and then we can talk—”

“I don’t want tea,” Lea says.  Her voice is shrill, and she keeps sweeping her bangs aside, blinking.  She takes a step back.  “I’m packing.  I don’t want tea, I want to pack and I want to go.”

“Where are you going to go, honey?”  Zach steps forward slowly, as though he knows decisive movements will scare her.  “This is your home now.”

He takes one step too far, because Lea takes one back and finds herself trapped between the bed and the wall.  “I’m going wherever I need to go. To Murphy’s, maybe, or just anywhere. I have to go.”

The despair in her voice twists into Di’s heart.  She wants to go to Lea, grab her and hug her, but Chris takes Di’s hand before she can move.

He says, “I think we need to give Lea some breathing space.”

“I don’t need breathing space, I need to get out of here.”

Chris doesn’t respond, just pulls Di along with him outside the trailer, and motions Zach to follow. Zach closes the door behind him but stays pressed up against it like he thinks Lea might make a break for it if he allows her an inch.

“Zach and I are going to leave,” Chris says.  “But I think you should stay with her.”

“No,” Zach says. “We’re not leaving. I’m not leaving.”

“Yes, we are.”

“She’s freaking.”

“Yeah. She’s about to have a full-blown panic attack, and I can tell you, she won’t want us here watching that.”

“I’m not leaving her.”

Zach’s bull-headed insistence doesn’t seem to be grating on Chris at all; he looks at Di and gives a shrug.  “I mean…she’s your girlfriend,” he says quietly. 

The first thing Di thinks is, _Oh, shit_ , because this is something she hasn’t considered, not yet.  Being in a relationship with Lea beyond performance partners or friends or co-workers - actually _being in a relationship_ with Lea means that she gets some kind of say in things that happen, in the things that affect Lea, because they affect Dianna, too.

“Zach’s had his say,” Chris says.  “And I’ve had mine. I think we should go.”

“I’d rather stay,” Zach says to her.  _To_ her. He’s waiting for permission. Both of them – Zach and Chris, they’re waiting there, expectantly, for her response.

She nods at them, weighing up the situation. “Let me speak with her alone, first. You two wait in Zach’s trailer and if she wants to see you, I’ll come get you.”

Zach doesn’t look happy about it, but he goes willingly enough. Is this what it really means to be a grown up? Di wonders. Responsibilities and compromise and tough decisions?

All in all…she likes it.

Lea has stopped packing when Di re-enters the trailer.  She’s sitting on the bed, staring at the floor, so Di sits cross-legged in front of her. She leans forward with her elbows on her knees, and takes Lea’s shaking hands into her own.  Lea’s fingers are cold.

They sit together in silence until Lea bursts out, “I’m sorry, but I’m leaving, and you can’t persuade me to stay.”

“Okay.” The placid response seems to help. Lea clutches back at Di’s hands. “Whatever you want to do, we can do,” Di tells her.

Dianna sits there without saying anything for a long time, listening to Lea’s breathing as she struggles to slow it and keep it even.  It takes some time, but eventually she masters herself.

“I’m sorry I cut you,” she says.  Her voice is tremulous, but calm.

“I know. It’s really fine.”

“It’s not fine.”

“It was just a mistake.”

“Dianna.” Lea finally looks her in the eye.  “It’s really nice of you to pretend that it wasn’t a colossal fuck-up but—”

“It wasn’t—”

“ _But_ ,” Lea continues loudly, “it was. And God, I can’t trust myself doing that anymore.  Not with you. I care about you too much.”

“Okay,” Di says, trying to pick her words.  “Well, okay. If you want to stop the act, we’ll stop the act.  We can do something else—or, okay, or nothing, if that’s what you want,” she finishes in a hurry, as Lea becomes agitated again.  “We can go be junior secretaries together and the biggest thing we’d have to worry about would be breaking our nails or filing stuff wrong or—”

Lea stands up and resumes her packing.  “No. That’s not how this is going to go. I’m sorry, Di. I really am, because I love you and I wanted everything to stay like it has been, because it’s been so wonderful, but it can’t.  I should’ve known.”

“You love me, but you’re leaving?”

“I love you, and that’s why I’m leaving.  I can’t hurt you again.”

“But I just said, we can ditch the act, and—”

“ _No._ ” Lea throws a balled-up leotard into her suitcase. “Don’t you get it? You’re fired.  I’m firing you, and I’m leaving.”  Di gapes at her until Lea sighs and explains, “You’re just finding yourself again here.  Finding your purpose, recreating yourself.  And that’s so good, it’s _so_ good. It’s exactly what I want for you. You _are_ Greenwood’s, and you’re going to be amazing and you’re going to turn this industry on its head, but I…” She clears her throat. “I can’t stay here. I don’t belong here and I never did. I’ve always been a transient, Di.”

“Fine,” Di says, standing herself. “But you still might as well unpack, because you can’t leave for fourteen days.  That’s what it says in your contract.  We need two weeks notice.”

Lea rolls her eyes. “Right.  Like Bruce is going to hold me to that.”

“It’s not Bruce you have to worry about.  It’s me. I’m your boss—till tonight’s over, anyway. You have a contract. Greenwood’s will be enforcing it. And you can have as many tantrums as you like, but we _will_ sue you for breach of contract if you leave.”

“No, you won’t,” Lea says.  She twirls a lock of hair around her finger and tugs at it.  “You wouldn’t.”

“Believe it,” Di tells her, and folds her arms.  “And while we’re on the subject, if you’re giving notice, you need to go see Bruce.”

“I will.”

“You’d better.”

“I’ll go right now.”

“Good.”

Lea stares at Di, uncertain, before stepping around her and exiting the trailer.

Di follows after taking a few minutes to pull herself together.  She’s having an adrenaline surge, and her hands shake. She stares at them, making fists and releasing them. God, she didn’t even know she had it in her to be so—so—whatever that was.

But all in all, yes, she likes it. She doesn’t know if calling Lea’s bluff will work, making her wait around instead of taking off immediately, but it’s better than nothing.

Chris and Zach tumble out of their trailer when they see Dianna walking by. “How’d it go?” Chris demands.

She shakes her head.  “Not sure yet. She’s still leaving, but I made her honor her contract.  Told her we’d sue if she left.”

Zach gives her an admiring look.  “You _look_ all butter-wouldn’t-melt, but there’s steel under that exterior.”

Steel. Yes. The feeling is fading a little now, but she summons up enough of it to give them a smile.  “So she’s on her way to Bruce to tell him she’s quitting.”

Chris and Zach look sympathetic, which makes it worse, but she keeps smiling. “I guess we should go on to the after party?”

They’d planned a gathering after first night to celebrate a successful opening, and Bruce was going to announce whether or not they’d made the amount of money necessary to put Zach and Lea on full-time. It all seems to matter much less than it did only an hour ago.

“Come on,” Zach says, linking his arm through hers and tugging.  “I need a drink.” 

Chris takes her other arm and they head off.

 

***

 

The celebration is not what Dianna had originally intended.  It’s a quiet affair, and Bruce isn’t even there to make an announcement about their profits.  She claps and cheers with the rest of the group when Simon, standing in, announces a sum of money. She does some quick mental arithmetic and is surprised to realize they’ve made _over_ the ten per cent she initially promised Bruce. Closer to thirteen.

Conspicuously absent from Simon’s speech is any mention of a full-time positions for Zach and Lea, and Di doesn’t push the matter. She graciously gives a speech thanking everyone, but escapes as soon as she can without seeming rude, and heads for Bruce’s RV. As she reaches the door it opens, and out steps Lea.

The two of them stare at each other, until Lea flushes and looks away.  Dianna can see the red stain on her cheeks spreading in the bright moonlight.  “Hey,” Lea says.

“Hey.”

“I’m sorry about before.”

Di says nothing.

“I’ve been playing Uno with Bruce.”

“Did you win?”

“Of course not.” Lea looks down at her feet and then, finally, at Di. “I really am sorry for before. For—for cutting you. And panicking like I did.”

“Does this mean you’re staying?”

Lea shakes her head slowly.  “I made my decision. It’s too dangerous anyway, what we were doing.  It’s better if I leave.”

“I see. Did Bruce agree?”

Lea gives a one-shouldered shrug. “He didn’t even mention what happened tonight. He gave me some hot milk and he had a whiskey, and we played Uno and talked about…I can’t even remember now. Nothing special.”

“Oh."

“Anyways,” Lea says, after a moment of silence.  “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Lost for words again, Di doesn’t even wish her goodnight, and Lea walks away, her arms wrapped around herself and her head down. Bruce is still gathering up the Uno cards when Di enters the RV.

“Hot milk?” Di asks.  “Really?”

Bruce glances up at her.  “Would you like some?”

God, yes. Yes, she would. “Hit me.”  Di flops down at the table.  “ _Please_ tell me you’re enforcing her contract.”

Bruce gives a chuckle. “From what I hear, you already did.  She told me she was resigning and asked me if there was any way she could get out of the waiting period.  I had an inkling you might have mentioned it, so I told her no."

Di smiles warmly at him.  “I figured she would benefit from a cooling-off period.”

“Ah, see, _now_ you’re thinking like a businesswoman.” Bruce pours a liberal amount of whiskey into his own hot milk before bringing the mugs to the table. “But she seems set in her resolution. Her time here has not led me to believe she finds it easy to admit she’s wrong, or back down from her decisions—no matter how poorly-made they may be.”

“Tell me about it.” Di grabs the whiskey bottle from the counter and sloshes some into her milk, ignoring Bruce’s raised eyebrows. They take a sip together, and Di feels the warmth fill her gut, her chest, her head. It’s good, but she’s grateful she only added a little whiskey.

Bruce says, “I offered Lea a full-time position here.”

“You _did_?”  Lea left out a lot of details about her conversation with Bruce.

“I hope that’s alright.  I knew that was what you were aiming for, but I didn’t want to tread on your toes. I wasn’t sure whether you wanted to tell her yourself, given your position.”

“No. That’s fine.”  Di feels a strange sense of guilt rising up in her.

“Of course, I’m still not really sure whether you and Chris are going to take up my offer, and run Greenwood’s.”

Ah. _That’s_ where the guilt is coming from.  “Right,” Di says slowly.  “About that.”

 

***

 

After her conversation with Bruce, Dianna can’t take any more emotional turbulence tonight. She heads to her trailer in a daze, and flops belly-down on the bed. Her back aches.  She skipped doing her cool-down after the act and it’s costing her now.

The one thing Dianna wishes she could do is crash into a dreamless sleep here in her own bed, but she needs to go to Lea.  She drags herself resolutely from the bed.  Thankfully, Anton has included the zipper in her costume now, so she strips and has a quick shower to wash off the grime of the day. She removes her performance make-up, relishing the cool swipes of cold-cream over her puffy eyes, and gives her clean face an appraisal in the mirror: she looks tired, but not drawn.

She dresses in the slip she wears to bed when she wants to feel like a princess. It’s Lea’s favorite on her, rose pink satin with soft lace at the neckline. It’s the most expensive thing Di owns, bought first-hand at a boutique in LA with money she saved up for two years. The rest of her wardrobe is second-hand or homemade. Anton, inspired, made her a matching robe from some left-over costuming material, and Di’s always thought it just as beautiful as the slip itself. So has Lea. She pulls it on over the slip.

As a last thought before exiting her trailer, she touches perfume to her wrists and throat. She might be steel underneath, but she’s warm flesh on top, and she intends to make the most of every weapon at her disposal.

It’s almost two a.m. A few people are still out and about, and Zach’s trailer has music and unintelligible conversation coming from it. He must have invited people over, a party to cover his worry. It’s smart; he knows he does better when he’s got other people around him. But Di tries to keep to the shadows without obviously skulking. She just doesn’t want to talk to anyone else before she talks to Lea, not right now.

There’s one small light coming from inside Lea’s trailer, the glow of it peeping out from under the door. Di knocks, and opens the door slowly when there’s no reply. Lea is seated on the edge of the bed again, hands on knees, staring at the floor.  Her two suitcases are packed, ready to go, and standing next to the closet. She’s washed her face and braided her hair into one thick plait down her back. She wears a white tee and cotton underpants.

She looks much younger than her twenty-one years in the yellow light of her small bedside lamp.

“Lea.”

Lea looks up at her, her face as blank as the gold mask Di wore during their act. “I’m exhausted. I don’t want to talk anymore.”

“Suits me,” Di tells her, and closes the door behind her.  Lea watches her.  “I came to say one thing to you, and then we can sleep.”

Dianna sits next to Lea on the bed, and covers her fist with gentle fingers.

“What is it?” Lea asks, her voice catching.

“Just this: that you can fire me as your target girl.  You can even fire me as your boss, if you want.  But you don’t get to tell me you love me and then fire me out of your whole life, just like that, with no discussion.  I don’t accept that, Lea.  You don’t get to make decisions like that on my behalf.” Lea says nothing. Di leans in and kisses her temple, soft and reassuring. “Okay?"

Eventually, Lea says, “We can talk about it if you want. But I’m not going to change my mind.”

Di says, “Let’s go to sleep now,” and stands up to take off her robe.

“You’re staying here?”

“Of course. Where else would I be?” Di pulls back the covers at the side of the bed— _her_ side of the bed—and climbs in.

Lea pushes off the bed and stands looking at it, at Di. She threads her fingers together.

“We can fight in the morning, if we really have to,” Di tells her. She turns to face Lea’s side, and closes her eyes, her hand curled on the pillow. After a moment, she feels the sheet lift and Lea’s weight settle on the other side of the bed.

“L’Air du Temps,” Lea says.  “Right? Your mother’s perfume?" 

“Mmhmm,” Di murmurs. Lea’s fingers creep into her curled hand, and Di smiles.

“I wish my mom had smelled like that. Instead of…”

Dianna opens her eyes, but Lea’s are closed. Her breath is slow and even.

They sleep.

 

***

 

They wake together, still hand in hand, at the noises outside. Di can hear John shouting something over and over again, until Zoë flings open her own trailer door and screams “ _Shut the fuck up and go to bed!_ ”

There’s a cackle of laugher, and Zoë slams her door shut. The noise subsides after that, but Dianna is wide awake, her mind racing with the events of the evening. The glowing green numbers on Lea’s digital clock say 4:49.

“You awake?” Lea whispers.

“Yeah.” Lea’s fingers are still in hers, so Di gives them a squeeze. “I think Zoë scared them silent.”

“You want to sleep more?”

“Not really,” Di says. “You?”

There’s a shuffling noise, and Di can see the outline of Lea’s head moving. She must be shaking her head no. Di becomes aware of Lea’s breath, quicker than it should be for just lying there. She moves her fingers on to Lea’s wrist and is pleased to hear a hitch in that breath.

“I want to kiss you,” Dianna says.

“Please,” Lea says wistfully, as though she’s been missing it for months.

Di props herself up carefully on one elbow – her back gives only the lightest twinge, and abates when she shifts – and looks down through the gloom at Lea’s face. She can make out Lea’s features only faintly: the long line of her mouth and the dark smudges of her eyes. She can see enough to press her mouth against Lea’s and land mostly square; they only need a slight adjustment before they’re flush against each other from lips to toes.

They both taste a little stale, from the night, from sleep, but Di couldn’t care less. She pulls Lea hard against her like she might be able to jump out of her own body and into Lea’s if she clutches her tight enough. Lea wraps a leg around Di’s waist in return, and they rock and move against each other in increasing need.

Dianna pulls back for a second to get a breath, but Lea grabs at her shoulder – and it’s just the wrong angle, just wrong enough to make her _Ah!_ in pain. Lea releases her at once, panicking, and they talk over each other.

“Oh no, I’m sorry—”

“No, it’s fine—”

“It’s not, it’s not fine, I need to make sure you’re _safe_ —”

“Maybe I don’t _want_ to be safe!” Di snaps. Lea flinches and Di reaches for her fingers, squeezes them.  “I didn’t mean to yell. Sorry.”

“That wasn’t yelling.  I don’t think I’ve ever heard you yell at all.”

“Not at you, maybe. Poor Chris got a lot of it.” She traces Lea’s lips with a fingertip. “I feel bad about it now.”

“Oh, _he_ probably deserved it,” Lea says loyally, and Di laughs.

“Really, I’m fine. Please don’t try to wrap me up in bubble wrap like Chris used to. You know I hate that.” The light has come up enough that Di can see the serious, thoughtful cast to Lea’s face. “You know that. You’re the only one who really knows it. It’s one of the reasons I love you.”

“One of the reasons?”

“One of a thousand,” Di says, and sweeps Lea’s bangs out of her eyes. “Kiss me?” she asks, and Lea leans in to lay a gentle kiss beside her mouth, on her nose, on her eyelid, and finally on her mouth.  “That was sweet. Very romantic,” Dianna says afterwards.  “Now kiss me like you _want_ me.”

“I _do_ want you.” But Lea seems to understand, because she tugs on Di’s arm until they tumble over each other in the bed, end up with Lea on top.  “Like this?” Lea asks, and nips at Dianna’s neck.  She’s still gentle, but the brief shot of pain makes Di gasp and then giggle.

“That was a bite, not a kiss!”

“Sorry.” Lea soothes it by brushing her lips over the same place.

“I wasn’t complaining.”  She pulls Lea down by the back of the neck, sucks on her full lower lip, catching it between her teeth, releases her.  “You’re always so careful with me.  You don’t have to be.” She sees a _look_ cross Lea’s face, and forestalls her.  “Yes, I _know_. I’m not suggesting naked Twister or sexy gymnastics.  I’m just saying, there are other ways to play rough.” 

Lea’s eyes go large and she stares at Di’s shoulder.  “What do you mean?”

Di pushes her, rolls on top.  “I _mean_ , I’m looking for a little danger.”

“Just a little?”

“Just a little, for now.  Maybe a lot, later down the track, but just a little now.  Is that okay?”

Lea gives a shrug that encapsulates _That depends what you had in mind._

“You’re so afraid of hurting me.”

“Can you blame me? I fucked up, Dianna. I fucked up and I cut you. I _scarred_ you.”

“We’re not put here on earth to be careful, certainly not people like us. I’m covered in scars anyway; one more isn’t going to make much difference to me.” She pulls off the bandage around her thigh, then takes Lea’s hand to run it over the red seam on that will fade eventually to translucency. It will leave only the faintest mark on her. Di kinds of wishes it wouldn’t.

Lea’s lips tremble, press together.  “It makes a difference to _me_ ,” she says. “Because that’s the scar _I_ gave you.”

Di pulls her back into a kiss, wishing she could take away all the guilt and fear in Lea, suck it out and replace it with happiness and love. “Take your clothes off,” she says, because it’s as good a place as any to start. She slips out of her own as well, more comfortable than ever with her body, with her scars, with her bumps and marks and imperfections—and all her perfections, too. “Hand me a knife.”

“What?”

“Knife. Hand me one.” Lea’s blank look continues.  Di gives up, and crawls over Lea to scrabble in a bedside drawer, pulling out one long, sheathed black rose knife.

She settles back on the bed beside Lea, the knife between them, and slowly unsheathes the blade. She can see rather than hear Lea’s breath quicken; her chest rises and falls in an increasing rhythm, and her breasts rounding in time with her breathing.

“What are you doing?”

Dianna presses the blade against the tender skin of her own breast.  “Showing you it’s okay to draw a little blood now and then. Metaphorically _and_ literally.”

The cut, when it comes, is a faint burn instead of a sting, and she stares at the thin line of red on her skin with as much surprise as Lea does.  The knife has barely broken the surface of her skin, but it’s a confronting sight nevertheless: a tiny crimson slash running close to her areola. The sun has come up enough to flush the room golden red through the blinds, and her blood stands in bright relief.

“ _Stop_ that.”  Lea clutches at Di’s hand over the handle of the knife.

Di is transfixed by the sight of it, and it takes her a moment to look up at Lea. When she does, she sees the shock in Lea’s face giving way to something else.

Dianna cautiously slides her hand, with the knife, out of Lea’s grip.  She rolls over onto her back, and Lea moves with her, as though they’re connected.  Di crooks her knee up, runs her fingers over the cut Lea gave her on her inner thigh. “It’s alright,” she says. “It’s more than alright.”

Every scar she has is a permanent reminder of her life up to this moment in time. Her body bears the story of her buried history, like an ancient civilization flattened over by battles and blood and rebuildings, and finally blanketed by time itself. Peaceful to the untrained eye; but Lea read her like an archaeologist from the day they met, saw beneath the surface, read the tale of each scar on Di’s body and heart.

Now Lea’s mark on her is the most precious and tell-tale of them all. The scar she got from standing up again after she was beaten down, and daring life to throw whatever it can at her.

Lea brushes her lips across Dianna’s breast.  Her mouth is stained when she raises her head, bright red standing out against the plum of her lips.  When Di glances down, she can see her pink nipples pressing into Lea’s tan flesh, the cut pouting open but bloodless now.

“All those broken bones and scars I’ve had,” Dianna says. “They’re how I learned. And if that’s the price I have to pay for really living the life I want to, _how_ I want to, with the _people_ I want to, well, that’s okay. That’s just—that’s just fine.” She’s close to tears for some reason, her eyes stinging, but she’s smiling and her heart feels open and full.

Lea takes up the knife again and presses it into her hand. “Cut me,” she says, and when Di hesitates, she pushes the point. “I want something to remind me, too.”

So Di runs the knife lightly across Lea’s breast as well, a short and shallow cut that speckles with miniature vermillion blooms. Dianna places her lips along the cut with reverence; it strikes her that this is how rituals form, with actions that symbolize mysteries the human tongue is not equipped to explain. Something is changing in them both, _between_ them both. When she looks up at Lea’s face again, she seems filled with a calm Di’s never seen in her before. That underlying frenetic energy has subsided.

“I’m not going to tell you to stay,” Di says quietly. “And either way, I’ll go with you or I’ll stay here with you; I already told Bruce I might be leaving. But running is what you’ve done all your life. Maybe it’s time to try something new.”

Lea takes a deep breath, bites her lip. “If you told me to stay…”

But Di, after her heart leaps in her chest, regretfully shakes her head. “It can’t work that way, honey. _You_ need to make the decision. You need to take that responsibility.”

Lea tears up. “I don’t know if I’m brave enough,” she whispers. “I’m a coward, Di. I pretend I’m not, but…”

“That’s not true,” Di tells her. “But don’t think about it now. Think about it later.” And with that, she begins to kiss her way down Lea’s skin, teasing at her nipples with teeth, and scratching lightly at the small of her back. Dianna’s always been a little uncertain of this part of their relationship, always let Lea take the lead, but not today. Today is a new day. She lays kisses on Lea’s bluebird tattoo on her hip, and then lower. Lower.

Lea moves with increasing urgency under her touches, arching up eagerly to meet her mouth, her tongue when it traces a teasing path up again to her navel. Di can’t help leaning across to bite into her hip, just to see—and Lea’s gasp and the way she spreads her legs make Dianna do it again, and then she changes tack and sucks at Lea’s inner thigh, presses her teeth in like a threat, working her way up.

“Please,” Lea gasps. “Oh, God, _please_ —”

She’s right where she wants to be now, and right where Lea wants her to be. Di spreads her open under her dark, sleek curls, and blows across Lea’s wet flesh first, just to tease. Lea grabs at her hair, tugging. “No,” Di says, and grabs her wrist. “You be good for me. I’ll tie you up if you can’t behave.”

God, she didn’t know she had it in her, but she does. She _really_ does. The way Lea stuffs her hands under the small of her back, just so she won’t be tempted, makes Dianna smile. She gives Lea one long, slow lick to make her shudder, and then goes to work with her tongue. She wants to make Lea scream. If the rest of the camp hears, who cares?

Lea is grinding up against her mouth, so Di stops and pushes down her hips. “I told you to be good,” she says silkily.

“Oh, God,” Lea breathes. “I am. I will be, I mean. I’m trying to be.”

“Keep still. I want to taste you. And then when _I’m_ ready, I’ll make you come.” Lea might have been the boss so far when it came to their act, but damn if Dianna can’t take charge right here and now.

She feels a rush of pleasure in herself, in Lea, when Lea squeaks, “Okay. Whatever you say.”

Lea is tart on Dianna’s tongue at first, but gets sweeter the longer Di teases at her. She’s doing her best to stay still, shifting her thighs wider when Di presses at them, but otherwise only her trembling breath shakes her body. She’s soaking now; Di’s fingers are dripping with her, her nose filled up with Lea’s scent. She feels half-drunk on it, on the taste, on the effect she has, on the power she holds.

“ _Please_ ,” Lea begs, real desperation in her tone, and Di relents.

“Okay,” she says, and begins to tongue firmly at Lea’s clit, trying to find the right rhythm, the right intensity that Lea’s shown her before with fingers. The hitch in Lea’s breath and the way her thighs press around Dianna’s neck tell her, finally, that she’s got it. Di sinks two fingers deep inside her – she’s slick and hot and soft and creamy all at the same time – and Lea abandons all attempts at keeping still. She grabs at Di’s head, thrusts up into her mouth three or four times, and then she’s coming, gasping out her bliss.

It doesn’t take long before Lea’s tugging her up to lie adjacent, licking at her mouth and tasting herself on Di’s lips, winding a hand between her legs. “Come on,” Lea demands, and rocks her palm hard up against Di’s center. “Come on, Dianna, let me watch you—” Their eyes lock. Di’s on edge enough that it only takes a few strokes of Lea’s hand before she’s exploding, caught by surprise almost. She’s wailing out her pleasure and her astonishment before she can stop herself, and Lea doesn’t stop her either, panting hot encouragement on her neck.

Later, after they’ve shared an early-morning shower and gone back to bed hopeful for another hour of sleep, they lie wrapped up in each other. It’s starting to get sultry already, and Lea puts on the a/c so they can lie skin-to-skin without overheating.

“I’ve made my decision,” Lea says sleepily.

“Mm?” Di asks, hoping that Lea can translate her interest and need-to-know despite the torpor they’re in.

Lea, evidently, can translate just fine. “I’m staying.”

Dianna cranes her neck up to brush her lips against Lea’s, and they fall asleep breathing in each other’s air.

 

***

 

When they, as John sarcastically puts it, _deign_ to join the rest of the troupe at lunch, Di is determined to make as little as possible of what went on last night. Lea still looks raw and vulnerable, her eyes darting around as though she expects danger from any direction. So Di keeps her close, and smiles and congratulates her fellow performers, and accepts their congratulations in return. And there are a lot of them, she notices. Just about everyone makes an effort to come up to her table at lunch and tell her how great last night went, how excited they are for the rest of the season, and how much they’re looking forward to seeing what Dianna has next in store for Greenwood’s.

“What do you mean?” she asks Anton, when he says as much from across the table. There’s a crowd of people around them, hovering like seagulls, and making Lea hunch into her plate as though trying for invisibility.

“Aw, you know,” Anton says with a knowing smile. “Word gets around. Besides, Bruce could do with a break. The man hasn’t had a vacation in about thirty years.”

It takes her by surprise, how eager everyone is to know what’s next on the agenda. On _her_ agenda. Anton wants to know if the Cossack Drag can come back. Zoë wants to know if she can start working on a high-wire act. John, quite seriously, asks Di’s opinion on a modernized clown-car stunt with what he calls “some postmodern tweaks.”

“Uh,” she says at last, when the clamoring dies down at the table, and they all look at her expectantly. “I mean, I’ll have to take it up with Bruce, but…” They wait, hanging on her every word. “But I’ll see what I can do?” she finishes 

It’s the right response. The gulls disperse, squawking happily amongst themselves, and Chris and Zach slide into the spare seats at their small table. “I think they’re about ready to deify you,” Chris says, and she’s about to make a snarky reply when she realizes he’s smiling proudly. “You deserve it, Di. Great job.”

“Oh,” she says. “Thanks.” She’s lighting up with happiness; her soul feels effervescent, like she could kick off from the ground and fly into the blazing summer sky.

Chris inclines his head slightly towards Lea and raises a questioning eyebrow. Di gives a little nod, but she can see Zach is still waiting for Lea to look up, worried.

“Some night, huh?” Di says lightly. “I always forget how much emotion it can bring out.”

“Yeah,” Chris says hurriedly, backing her up. “Remember that one time I freaked out just because I missed a step on the ladder climbing up? Nerves, man. They do weird things." 

Lea puts her fork down and dabs at her mouth with a napkin.

“Yeah. Nerves,” Zach agrees, though he still looks downcast.

“You’re sweet,” Lea says to Chris, and he looks taken aback. “Really. I should have seen that before. You’re very sweet. You all are,” she continues, looking around at the three of them. “And I’m embarrassed it’s taken me this long to really appreciate what I have here. I’m sorry about last night, sorry I took it out on you all. It was just a small cut. Just a mistake, nothing to get so worked up about. I can’t learn or grow if I don’t make mistakes; I see that now. So…maybe I’m even glad about it in a way. 

Zach’s mouth is hanging open. Chris asks slowly, “So…does this mean…”

“Of course I’m staying,” Lea says at once. “This is my home. You’re my family.”

Dianna reaches for Lea’s hand and gives it a squeeze. “Of course we are,” she echoes, and Lea gives her a grateful look.

“Well,” Zach says, still amazed. “Thank God for that. I was getting used to you being all grown up, but then last night—”

Lea flashes him a dark look, but Chris interrupts. “I’m just happy we’re all staying together,” he says. “Why don’t you guys go grab some celebratory granita for us all? Karl made it special for today. There’s watermelon and peach, or random berries, whatever he dug out of the freezer.”

Zach and Lea obligingly take away their dirty plates and head back to the cold buffet. Dianna is pleased to see people stopping Lea to praise her for last night, or just high-five her as she passes. It’s helping. Lea looks less like she’s expecting an imminent attack. She’s even smiling a little.

“Di?” Chris says tentatively.

“Oh, God,” she says, looking at him. “What?” What now, she’s thinking. What _now_? Can’t she even have one day where nothing goes wrong?

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. It’s about Dad.”  He pauses, waiting to see what her reaction will be, but Di just waits for him to continue. “He’s alive.  And he’s in rehab, back east.  I’m thinking about going to see him after the season’s finished, take a trip to New York to see Zach’s family, and maybe visit him just for a few hours.”

“Okay.”

“If you wanted to come, I’d…that would be…I mean, you don’t have to tell me right _now_ —”

“I’ll think it over,” she says.  He looks worried, still, so she adds, “Thanks for letting me know.”

“Was it okay – telling you now?”

She understands what he means. “You know what? I’m starting to think my shoulders are broader than I thought. Speaking of which, I want to speak to Bruce this afternoon. Let him know I’d like to take up his offer. Do you…want to come with me?”

Chris chews on his lip. “To tell you the truth, Di, I don’t know if I have it in me to run a place like this. There’re a lot of extra worries I never even thought about.”

She considers him, considers what she knows about him, about herself. “Well, you know,” she says, “ _I’d_ be in charge. I was hoping you could work in a support role.” Lea sets down a violent pink mound of granita before her, and she digs in with her spoon, enjoying the look on Chris’s face.

“What support role?” Zach says brightly, swinging his long legs under the table. He nudges Chris hard. “Eat up, baby. Gotta keep you in top form.”

“Head of recruitment, for example, finding new acts. Training them up to suit our style. And I thought maybe Zach could take on a creative role – see, one thing I’d like to do differently to Bruce is not do _everything_ myself. We have so many talented people here, why not use them? It protects us if we have a group of people taking different responsibilities. That way, if one of us leaves or one of us wants to take a break, we still have continuity of leadership.”

Chris shoves with his spoon at the granita in his bowl, and then looks up. “That’s smart,” he says. “You’re smart.”

“I know,” Dianna says placidly, and smiles.

“You’re just catching up,” Lea says to Chris, and then laughs at his glare. “Kidding! I’m _kidding_. That’s what families do, right? Tease?”

“You’re lucky I don’t start a granita war,” Chris mutters, but he laughs as well. “Okay, then, little sisters. I guess you’ve thought it all through, haven’t you?”

“Yep,” Di says. The ice is cold and sweet on her tongue. She has a momentary daydream of spreading it on Lea, sucking it off her hot skin before it melts, and bites her lip before she smirks. “So?” she asks Chris. “Will you come with me to see Bruce?”

“Let’s all go,” Chris suggests. “Since we’re family.”

Di smiles fondly at him, and then around the tent. Yes. This big, loud, half-crazy bunch of people are her family, and it’s remarkable that she’ll have a chance to lead them. She’s lucky. She feels _honored_. And in fact, there’s something she needs to do for the very closest of her family members.

“Help me up,” she says to Lea. Lea stares at her, confused, but holds up her hand to help Dianna stand on the bench they’ve been sharing. “Hey!” Di hollers, hands around her mouth. “Hey!”

A piercing whistle sounds from the back corner of the tent – Karl, bless him – and the troupe fall silent.

“I just wanted to say congratulations to all of us,” Di starts, and is immediately interrupted by furious applause. She has to wait until it dies down before she tries again. “And I have an announcement to make. Greenwood’s will be extending full-time employment offers to Lea Michele and Zachary Quinto in recognition of—” She’s really drowned out this time, the whistling and cheering and clapping so loud she thinks the ground must be rocking with it. “Yeah,” she says at last. “It’s great news. That’s all, except I wanted to ask a few people to stay behind after lunch, please, so I can speak to them.” An _ooo-oooh_ rises up from the crowd, like someone’s in trouble, but she ignores it. “John. Anton. Zoë. Karl. Eric. Simon. Chris, Zach and Lea. And—and Bruce, too, if you’re not busy.”

Bruce, looking surprised but agreeable, nods his head, and Di steps down carefully and sits again.

“What’s this all about?” Chris asks, curious.

“Wait and see,” she tells him, and smiles.

 

***

 

They crowd around one of the center tables once everyone else has left. Karl waved off the cleaning crew—“Come back later,” and Di began to hope she isn’t building things up too much.

She starts nervously. “First of all, thanks to everyone for doing such an incredible job on the fundraiser and at opening night. Times have been rough here for a while now, but I think we’re starting to put the bad behind us now.” There is a murmur of assent. “But I _have_ noticed that a lot of us are still holding on to some stuff that’s keeping us down, keeping us from being our best.  I’d really love to see if we can get rid of that, because it’s hurting us all.”

Group atmosphere is something that’s taken very seriously at Greenwood’s. There are all sorts of superstitions, no matter how much people might deny them, about the need for harmony and the bad luck that can dog an out-of-balance troupe.  Di can see she’s caught everyone’s attention. Most of them are nodding - Zach, she can see, is particularly vigorous.  Zoë has joined hands with Anton and Karl on either side of her. Even John looks serious.

“It seems to me,” Di continues, “that the thing hurting us most is a sense of guilt. So many of us seem to be carrying around a burden inside, and it’s weighing all of us down. I thought maybe, if people wanted to, they could let the rest of us try to help them carry those burdens.” She can feel her heart racing. If people think it’s a stupid idea, she has no idea what else to suggest. But if it works, she might be able to extend it to the wider troupe, get them talking and sharing, too.

No one seems to be objecting. 

“So…I guess I’ll go first?”  She gives a nervous smile.  “I’ve been struggling with my limitations since the accident.  I’ve had difficulty coming to terms with what happened that day, and I’ve taken it out on some of the people here – Chris, in particular. Um, sorry, Chris,” she adds, and although everyone laughs, the mood shifts and becomes intimate and more open at the same time.  “It’s been good for me to get out more, and perform with Lea, and to start taking on some responsibilities. That’s helped. Although sometimes I get overwhelmed by the expectations and I’m afraid I’ll let you all down.”

John says, “You did an incredible job on the fundraiser and opening night.”

Others join in immediately: “We’re always ready to help if you need us,” and “You’re going to be amazing.”

“Thanks,” Di says, because she’s touched and feeling choked up, and saying anything more might make her burst into tears.  Lea raises her hand like she’s in a classroom.

“I have a guilt confession,” she says once she’s caught attention. “I feel guilty for being awful when I first arrived, and for not trusting Chris to perform with Zach, and for running off into town and getting drunk, and for getting Zach and Chris locked up for a night, and…and for cutting Di last night.  Live on stage, with everyone watching.”

There’s complete silence for a moment after Lea finishes, and Di fears that no one will say anything reassuring – but then John says, “Are you kidding? Slicing Di live on stage was the _best part_ of the show!”  Laughter follows, and then Karl tells Lea about the time he set his own hair on fire, and Simon recalls an early career experience where the audience threw popcorn at him to get him out of the ring. John talks about twisting his ankle in the opening tumbles, and having to limp off slowly, in front of a silent crowd.

Lea listens to them all, an intent expression on her face, and nods after they’ve finished. “Thank you,” she says.  “I still feel bad, but not as much.”

“I feel guilty for doing the Cossack drag after Bruce banned it,” Anton says. “And, uh, for still practicing it secretly.”

“And I feel guilty for letting you,” Zoe adds.  “God,” she finishes with a big sigh of relief. “Confession really _is_ good for the soul.  Bruce, you can forget that one, though.”  The group looks to Bruce to see how he’ll react, but he only gives an enigmatic smile.

“I feel guilty about Di’s accident,” John says next, and Di stares at him, surprised.

“Why, on earth?” she asks.

“I didn’t check the rigging.”

“I’m the one who left that moron in charge,” Eric breaks in. “I’ve been feeling like shit about that for over a year, now.  I’m sorry, Di. And Chris.  I never apologized to either of you about that, because I felt so bad I couldn’t get the words out.”

“But you don’t have to apologize,” Chris says, and Di can hear the same surprise she’s feeling in his voice.  “I mean, I still feel guilty, too.  I’m definitely the one most to blame.  But it _was_ an accident.”

“You’re all forgiven,” Dianna says, waving her hands in the air with the same gesture she used for her magic tricks.  “Abracadabra!  You now feel no guilt whatsoever.”

They all laugh, and then John says, “God, if only it were that easy. But okay. Every time I start thinking about it, I’ll remember this, and try to get over it.”

“It takes some time,” Chris says.  “Or it did for me.  But I feel less like drowning myself in a bucket every time I think about it.”

“That’s something, at least,” says Zach, and grabs Chris to kiss the top of his head.

Anton feels guilty for jumping the line at lunch, Zoë for stealing someone else’s lipstick when she couldn’t find her own.  Karl has been extending his meatloaf recipe to breaking point with oatmeal; and John admits to stealing Zach’s stash of bubblegum, just to annoy him. Zach is more outraged than Di expected him to be, but he’s mollified when John promises to return it. “It’s not like you chew it, anyway,” John mumbles. “Not when I’ve seen you. What are you _doing_ with all that gum?”

“Nothing,” Zach says, and flicks Chris a look that makes him blush. “Yet.”

Di resolutely looks away from them. She doesn’t want to know what _that’s_ all about.

Then Bruce speaks up.  “I feel guilty about letting all of you down.  I’ve let things slide, and I haven’t been the Director you all deserve. I’d also like to apologize to Zach and Lea for bringing them in on contract like I did.  I should have taken them on as salaried right from the start.”

It’s as though the whole group is holding its breath, each pair of eyes rounded and fixed on Bruce.

“Things have been difficult for me for some time. Years, perhaps. I’ve had personal problems, business problems.  And then there was Dianna’s accident; Chris’s troubles this year; Anton’s fall…I feel like I’ve failed in my duty to protect you all.”  There’s an outburst from them all, vehement dissent, until Bruce raises a hand. “You all got a chance to blame yourselves,” he points out with a smile.  “I should have my chance as well.  I just wanted to say that, despite the way things have been heading downhill the last few years, I’m determined to do my best for you until I retire. I’m proud to see what you’ve all accomplished as a team.  I’m proud to have every single one of you as a member of Greenwood’s.”

After they break up their little group, with hugs and happy tears and warm words, Di pulls Bruce aside by the hand. “Bruce—”

“I couldn’t be happier,” he says, and wraps her up in a gentle but complete hug.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say,” she says over his shoulder, hugging him back.

He takes her by the shoulders and looks at her fondly. “Of course I do. And Bona Dea – I never doubted you for a second.” He cups her face in his hands and kisses her on the forehead. She’s transported, suddenly and totally, to her childhood, to her father kissing her just this way before she ran off every morning to the school tent. Her eyes sting, and she hopes Bruce will assume they’re happy tears. All he says is, “This has been cathartic. Maybe we can do something similar for the whole troupe at the next fire circle.”

“Yeah,” she says, rubbing surreptitiously at her nose. “Yeah, I think we should.”

Chris is hovering nearby when she leaves Bruce, and she shakes her head, unable to fully articulate how she’s feeling. “I can’t give you an answer about going to see Dad,” she says at last. “Not yet. Give me some time.”

He nods, understanding, and lets Lea swoop in to drag her away. Looking back, Di gives him a small wave and Chris, smiling, raises his hand to her, before turning to Zach.

 

***

 

One morning, about two weeks before the season is due to end, Dianna begins to suspect there’s something going on. Chris should be on breakfast prep, but he’s nowhere to be found.  And neither is Lea, or Zach.  Bruce, when she runs into him, wears a suspiciously innocent expression for the whole conversation, and also avoids giving out any information regarding Chris, Lea or Zach’s whereabouts. She spends the morning finalizing some plans for the closing show.  Before lunch she heads to the mess tent, but Karl shoos her away, insisting that he has everything under control, so she goes to Anton, who has patched up her old magician costume.  Di is planning to perform a magic show for kids at a local shopping mall in LA to drum up publicity for the last week, and to gauge interest in reopening Greenwood’s sideshow alley.

She sits with John at lunch, and he at least is more honest. “Can’t tell you, babe,” he says when she asks. “But it’s something good.”

“Why does everyone know about it except _me?_ ” she wails.

“Because it’s a surprise, my little pumpkin face.  Why don’t you go and make yourself beautiful for the big reveal?”

Dianna troops back to her trailer to get ready. Outside she can hear occasional shouts, and then muffled giggling. She opens her door to follow the trail of laughter, but Zoë’s right outside and hustles her back in.

“Let me do your make-up!” she says brightly.

“You’re in on it _too_?” Di sighs. “Whatever _it_ is. Can’t you give me a clue?”

Zoë just laughs, and passes her a headband to push back her hair. “What colors would you like?”

“Make it dramatic.  Like Lea’s.” Her coloring can’t take exactly the same vibrant shades, but Zoë manages to sultry her up. Deep purple shadow brings out the green in her eyes, and the smoky grey liner makes them look sexy and promising as she pouts and preens in the mirror.  She catches Zoë’s amused glance and breaks into laughter. “You know I’ve always hated this stuff,” she confides, waving a hand at her face.  “I mean, really hated it, because I had to do it for performances; it gets tedious. Feels like a mask.  But it’s been so long since I wore something just to look nice…I kind of miss it.” She bats her eyelashes and tries a simper in the mirror.

Lea bounds into the trailer then, bristling with excitement. “ _Wow._ Look at you!”

“Look at me,” Di agrees, and pulls her in to kiss. Her cranberry lips leave a stain on Lea’s lips, but Lea just smudges it over and adds some gloss to her mouth in the mirror. Look at both of us, Di wants to say, watching their reflections. They’ve changed, both of them: older and wiser and with a better chance at happiness.

“Ready to go?” Lea asks, looking at her with a smile so joyful and conspiratorial that Di can’t help but smile back. 

“Alright,” she says.  “Surprise me.”

Lea insists on a blindfold, and Dianna agrees; far be it from her to argue. Besides, she has no fear of wandering in the dark as long as Lea’s leading her. She can hear murmurs and whispers and giggles as they walk, so she’s pretty sure everyone in the camp is gathered together.

“Okay,” Lea says at last, positioning Di very exactly. “We’re here. You can take it off.”

Di pulls off the blindfold and blinks in the glare of the afternoon sun. The whole company is gathered together in front of her, but they’re dwarfed by the huge green shape behind them.  Dianna stares, not quite understanding.

“The balloon?”

Lea leads her into the crowd, towards the hot air balloon. Yes, it’s the same one Di remembers, with Greenwood’s logo on it and bright enough to stand out against the bluest sky. The company make way for her like water parting around a ship’s bow.  Everyone is smiling, or shading their eyes as they look up at the enormous balloon, bobbing gently against the cerulean sky like a cork on water.  Chris is standing near the basket with Zach, bouncing on the balls of his feet like he can barely contain his energy.  Bruce is standing in the basket, leaning against the sturdy-sided wicker with his arms folded and a carefree expression.

It’s not the same basket Di remembers; it used to be large enough for sixteen people. This one is half the size, but still of traditional wicker, and brand-new. The rattan is sturdy and supported by steel cables. There are spaces for footholds built in to the front, but Di doubts she’ll be able to climb in easily. Her back’s a lot better, but she doesn’t want to push it too far.

“Come on, Bona Dea.”  He pats the woven wicker as though inviting a cat to jump up.

“I don’t know if—” she starts, but then Chris sweeps her gently off her feet, over the side of the basket, and into Bruce’s arms.  Bruce sets her down next to him, and she grabs onto the side of the basket feeling breathless, laughing. 

Her stomach is flip-flopping like it does on the Wheel, like it used to when she flew. Bruce gives a speech about how amazing she is, how much work she’s done all season, while Di blushes pinker and pinker, and tries not to cry. There are cheers and shouted agreements from the troupe, until at last, Bruce finishes, “So, from all of us, to all of you, please enjoy a ride up into the wide blue yonder.”

Chris jumps in, followed by Zach, and then the two of them turn to lift Lea into the basket as well, graceful as a ballet dancer.  Dianna stares at her.

“You do realize that balloons fly, right?  They go up high.  That’s their purpose.”

Lea gives a toss of the head.  “I am aware, yes. There’s no need to be sarcastic.” Before Dianna can ask, she adds, “If you must know, I’m planning to curl up in a little ball in the corner. I wasn’t going to miss this…and I’ve taken a Valium.”

“We also have a blanket for her to hide under,” Bruce says.

Di wants to make a reciprocal speech of thanks, but she’s too overcome. Her eyes fill up and threaten to spill over.

“Okay,” Zach announces loudly, “let’s get this happening before the waterworks hit.” There’s a wave of laughter from the troupe. Bruce fires up the burner, John releases the tether holding the balloon to the ground, and the basket begins a smooth ascent.

Lea grabs the sides of the basket, her eyes going so wide that Dianna can see white all around her irises, and then sinks slowly into a huddle on the floor of the basket.  “I’m okay, I’m okay,” she mutters.  Dianna crosses the basket to stroke her head, but her attention is caught by the diminishing view of the ground.  Zoë is waving, so she waves back, which makes John start jumping and flapping his hands above his head. Di waves back at him too, and finds herself laughing.

“That damn clown,” she says to Chris across the basket.  He grins back at her.  Zach is staring at the burner, asking question after question of Bruce, and Dianna can hear Bruce’s comforting, assured voice saying things like _One hundred thousand cubic feet on average_ and _French felled seams_.  She looks down at Lea again, who’s breathing deeply in and slowly out, her eyes closed.  “Honey, are you okay?”

“As far as I’m concerned, I’m on two legs on the ground.”

“Alright.” She gives another sympathetic stroke to the glossy dark hair and turns to look out again at the view. They’re drifting slowly in the still air, and she thinks back to when Bruce used to take her up, let her get away from the family dramas for an hour or two, and talk to her about the fine traditions of ballooning.  She remembers those days fondly, drifting through a soundless sky with only the occasional surprised bird to break the silence.  Bruce seemed to know instinctively when she did or didn’t want to talk.

It was an escape, and she never begrudged his presence, but being alone up here – that was an occasional dream she had.  Alone and free with nothing but hot air keeping her up in the sky. No shouting parents, no irritating brother, no dying mother. So much peace, and not like the peace she got from performing. This kind of flying is something entirely different.

On a day this warm, she knows the balloon will fly lower, but Bruce seems to be keeping them deliberately lower than usual.  They’re drifting back the way they’ve travelled, over the forest, and they fly for three-quarters of an hour, dropping into silence and wonder. Zach and Chris are linking idle hands and staring in different directions when suddenly Zach straightens and gives a shout.

“There it is!”  He’s pointing.

“Don’t rock the basket!” Lea says wildly.  She’s spent the journey with her head pressed into her knees, but finally lifts it to glare at Zach. 

“Sorry, Lea,” Zach says, although he hasn’t rocked anything. Di hides her smile and looks to where Zach points.  A large tree, rising up above the forest, standing tall among the rest.  “That’s the tree we told you about, Di.  We wanted to show you.  We figured you’d get too tired to walk that far, and short of carrying you out on a litter…I mean, I _totally_ would have done that, but Chris here has ideas above his station.”

“Hey,” Chris protests, but smiles.  He hands Di a pair of binoculars.  “It’s still pretty far away,” he says apologetically.  “But at least we can all share it now, seeing it like this." 

“That’s the tree?”  Di feels her heart lifting. The others have told her stories about it, about a magical tree growing deep in the forest, where Lea and Chris started to find a connection. Privately, Lea told Dianna it was the first time she felt like Greenwood’s might really be the place she belonged.

 “Hey,” Lea is saying now, hitting at Chris’s ankle. She passes up Di’s camera. “We nearly forgot!”

“Oh, yeah!” Chris takes the camera carefully and passes it to Di. “We figured you could take some art shots, or whatever.” He watches over her shoulder as she adjusts the lens. She offers him a look through the viewfinder, and he squints through it eagerly. “You know,” she says, “I could show you some things. If you were interested in photography, I mean. I know you used to like looking through mom’s albums.”

Chris smiles at the memory. “I did,” he says. “And you used to make dad—uh.” He stops, hands the camera back, and says in a loud voice, “Make sure you get the tree, okay?” He gives her a quick smile before rejoining Zach, but Di feels a twinge inside.

It’s not right that her brother should feel that way – like he can’t even mention their father in front of her anymore. She thinks it over while she zooms in and snaps the tree a few times. She still needs to give Chris an answer about his suggested road trip to see Bob Pine, allegedly in rehab, allegedly remorseful.

Lea reaches over to touch her calf. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Di says, and crouches down with a smile. “You? You’re so brave.”

“I’m trying,” Lea replies, with a watery smile. “You like the tree?”

“It’s incredible.”  Dianna stands again to look, tears stinging her eyes.  “I wonder how it managed to grow so tall.”

Even Lea gets up the courage to take a quick peek through one of the open footholds. After that, Bruce decides it’s time to come down, and contacts John on the radio for pick-up. They touch down in a large school field.  “Are we allowed?” Chris asks, just after they’ve landed.  “I mean, this is private property.”

“What are they going to do?” Bruce laughs as he climbs out. “Arrest us?”

Zach gives Chris a peculiar look.  “Well, maybe. The police might take us away and lock us up again for the night.”  Bruce shoots them a frown, but neither notice.

“Spider-web?” Chris mutters inexplicably.

“Spider-web,” Zach whispers back.

Dianna is concentrating on helping a shaky Lea stand up in the basket, but she doesn’t miss the way Chris’s eyes light up.  From that moment, both Zach and Chris seem very eager to help with the pack-up, running to follow Bruce’s orders.  John arrives in a van to pick them up, and helps load the basket into the back. Lea has gradually recovered her poise, pleased with herself for managing to look out at the forest, even if it was just for a moment.

Chris calls to John for help rolling up the deflated balloon, but John just shrugs. “I figure you got it covered, Pine,” he says with a grin.  Chris mutters under his breath, but Di can see him smiling to himself.

The sun is very low in the sky by the time they’re driving back, and when they arrive at the site, Dianna can smell something delicious coming from the mess tent. She’d hate to miss dinner, but she’s exhausted, and when Lea offers to bring her a tray, she gratefully accepts. 

Di goes back to her trailer and lies down on the bed, stretching her vertebrae carefully.  They’re much better, but she still needs a little more recovery time.  Still…in a year, perhaps, the pain will be completely gone. Maybe less than a year. That thought, combined with the sense of peace and joy today has given her, and her growing relationship with Lea – it fills her with elation.  There’s a knock on the door, and her heart jumps.  She turns her head to call out an invitation to Lea to come in.

It’s not Lea.  “Bruce?”

“Do you have a moment?” Bruce asks, and steps inside when she nods. He stops to look at her, laid out on the bed, and she pushes herself upright.  He moves to help her but she shakes her head.

“I’m fine.”  She walks to the kitchenette table, and Bruce sits opposite her, still not saying anything, until she asks, “Was there something you wanted to talk about?” Only then does she see what’s in his hands.

An urn. The urn with her mother’s ashes.

Bruce puts the urn on the table and says, “I hope this is okay, Bona Dea. I’ve been taking care of her for you, but she really belongs with you and Chris.”

Dianna is vaguely surprised to find she has no tears, but instead a deep sense of rightness. “Yes,” she says. “Yes, she does. Thank you for looking after her for us.”

Bruce relaxes back in the chair, regarding her, and raises an eyebrow. “I thought maybe you had something you wanted to run by me?”

It rises up slowly inside her, a surety and a conviction and a sudden deep _need_.  “I want to do the act with Lea, as long as she’s doing it. And I want to take over the business from you when you retire. But I also want to learn how to fly the balloon. I want to be able to take people up into the sky, let them see what it’s like to fly. I want to give them that gift.”

 

***

 

The day before the last day of season, the heat wave breaks in a spectacular and alarming fashion with a black thunderstorm an hour after the last patrons have left the campsite. Dianna, who’s in the mess tent for a late dinner, decides to wait it out. Lea’s with her, and they’ve been talking over some plans for next season’s show.  Lea has had an idea for a Dorothy and Glinda act, maybe even with some singing involved. But the rain is so loud on the canvas roof that they give up their discussion, and Lea goes to stand at the edge with Zoë and Anton, watching the rain rebounding off the hard earth like mini-explosions.

Di is finishing up her dessert when Chris drops into the seat next to her.

“Hi!” he yells.

“Hi, yourself!” she shouts back, and they sit in companionable silence while the heavens roar. After a minute or two it recedes, and Dianna can hear the tent chatter start up again. She’s finished her sundae, so she pushes it aside and leans in to talk to Chris. “Listen,” she says, just as he begins, “I wanted to say—”

They laugh, and then Chris extends his hand in a _you first_ gesture.

“I’ve been thinking about your idea to go see Dad,” she says without preamble.

“Aw, Di, that’s what I wanted to apologize about,” Chris says, wincing. “I’m sorry I sprung it on you like I did, and—”

“Hey, hush up and listen,” she says, but smiles. “What I wanted to tell you was, you shouldn’t feel like you can’t talk about him around me. I know you love him and miss him. You shouldn’t feel like you have to pretend you don’t." 

Chris twirls the salt-shaker around and around while he takes that it, and then looks up hopefully. “Does that mean…”

She shakes her head. “No.”

“Oh.” His face falls again, and she reaches for his hand. “You can take longer to think,” he says. “If you need to.”

Di shakes her head again.  “I’ve made my decision.  I can’t do it, Chris. Not yet.”

“Okay,” he whispers.

“It’s too soon.”

“I should have waited to tell you.”

“No; it wouldn’t have made a difference.  And I want you to understand, I really did think it over. I think I can stop hating him as much as I do, and I’m going to work on that, because it’s hurting me. But I don’t want to see him, not yet.  Maybe not ever, but definitely not yet.  I wouldn’t be able to look at him without thinking awful things, and I don’t want to think awful things, not anymore.  I want to be happy and I want to work on my own life before I even think about letting him back in.”

Chris clears his throat. “I understand.  I’ll give you all the time you need, even if…even if you never want to see him again.” 

Di squeezes his wrist.  “I’d appreciate it, though if – only if you think it would be appropriate – if you could tell him…” She thought she was all cried out over Bob Pine, but here her eyes go again, filling with tears.  “Just tell him…God, I don’t even know.”

“You’re glad he’s not dead?”

She gives a laugh.  “Yeah. Something like that.”

“I’ll think of a better way to put it,” Chris says, smiling with her.

“Oi, Lazy!” Karl calls from the cook tent.  “You on clean up, Chris?”  He appears, wiping his hands on a dishtowel.  “And you, Di, make sure you tell your girl I’m cooking her favorite tofu scramble tomorrow morning.  That’ll get her up and moving.”

Her girl.  Di can’t stop grinning at the term.  “Yeah. I’ll tell her.”

She sneaks up behind Lea, still at the edge of the tent, and hugs her from behind, ignoring the surprised shriek. “I’m done,” she announces.

“Finished dessert?” Lea asks, twisting to smile up at her.

Di leans close to her ear and whispers something that makes Lea blush, before pulling back. “I think the rain’s easing up,” she says innocently. “Maybe we should make a run for the trailer?”

Lea pulls her into the downpour, laughing, and Dianna lifts her face to the sky, letting the rain splash into her eyes, her mouth, soaking her skin and hair, washing her clean, baptizing her into something new.

 

 

 

***~*~***

**EPILOGUE**

 

> From: [zqstrongsword@gmail.com](mailto:zqstrongsword@gmail.com)
> 
> To: [margquin@nyccc.com](mailto:margquin@nyccc.com) 
> 
> Re: Visit in October?

 

Dear Ma,

Road trip is a go! I’ll be winding my way back across the nation in my brand new trailer. Just wait till you see it! Should arrive just in time for Joe’s birthday. Tell Joe he has to take Gorgeous Georgie home with him so I can shake some sense into her (but seriously, congrats to him on the engagement, and tell him to take my calls occasionally).

Chris is definitely coming with me. I can’t wait for you to meet him. I want to embarrass the heck out of him by telling you all about how amazing he is, and then feed him till he bursts on your ziti (make extra please, Ma. You know I eat a lot? Chris eats more).

Lea’s doing well, and I know you worry about her, but really, she’s actually doing _well_ , not just biding her time till the next blow up. She’s got something really special with Dianna, and she’s happy. Actually happy. She’s a different person. I can barely believe it myself, so I don’t blame you for your skepticism last email, but Di’s a really great influence on her. Better than I ever was!

But just a bit of bad news – Lea won’t be with me when we come home. I know you’ll be disappointed, but she’s staying at Greenwood’s with Di. Lea says she misses you and loves you and she’s sending you some new recipes she’s learned from her buddy Karl.

Lea and Di are already working on their new act for next year. Lea’s got more record-breaking in her sights, I bet you anything. I’m hoping to work on some new tricks with Chris (he’s a great teacher, even if I do think he goes over the top on repetition sometimes) so we can really start to have some fun up there. There’s even talk Greenwood’s might start touring the east coast again – if it does, I’m getting you and Joe front row tickets every night. Or at least for opening night. Money’s still tight around here, but getting better.

Di’s aiming to open up sideshow alley again, so I might do some sword-swallowing again after all. I know, I know, I promised to give it up, but it’s really okay, and people love that kind of thing. Gives them something to get excited about before they hit the Big Top. Di’s going to give balloon rides, can you believe it? She should have her license by next season.

Chris is hoping to go see his Dad while we’re up New York way.  Please don’t ask him too many questions about it; he’s still not sure what’s going to happen, but I told you a little about his dad last email. Let him raise it if he wants to, but don’t push it. Even if you mean well, okay?

Chris and I have been testing out some ideas for next season, too. Maybe some kind of bird theme. I’d love to dress him up in feathers, like one of those tropical parrots. I could be a peacock, just like I always wanted – remember that costume I bugged you to make me for Halloween in third grade? Chris told me my tail would get in the way, but we could work around that.

Or else a space theme…he’s like a comet sometimes, he goes so fast across the Top. Oh, Ma. You were right, what you said last email. I’m crazy for him, and all I want is to fly alongside him as long as I can.

You know, maybe Joe’s got the right idea 

Okay, time for me to get ready for the last show of the season. Wish me luck! I’ll be home soon and I can’t wait to get nice and plump on your cooking.

Love you, Ma. Give my love to Joe as well,

Z xx

 


End file.
